


Anaphrodisiac Withdrawal

by rayvanfox



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Porn, Drug Withdrawal, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3146612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Banner had said this would happen — that one of the supplements had been a suppressant of desire — and that if it disturbed him when it returned, Bucky should talk to him. He didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Painkiller

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kryptaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/gifts).



> ... with my apologies.
> 
> it needed to be done, k, and i didn't want to drag you down with me.

“Steve.” It came out a harsh whisper, the searing pain inside too much — too close — to override. Bucky held his breath through the worst of the stabbing sensation, but it came out a sob on the other end. He shivered, colder than cold under the heavy blankets, and curled into a tighter ball — protect the vital organs, cover the head — praying for it to stop. Just stop. He didn’t care how. 

It had been days — or maybe hours, possibly weeks — since HYDRA had disintegrated. They told him Pierce was dead, that his C.O. would have no more missions for him. That the work they’d been doing was in service of chaos, not order, and the care the doctors had taken was abuse. It was all gibberish. He’d been out of cryo too long and nothing slotted easily into orders or intel — the only two folders he knew how to access on his hard drive. 

But it wasn’t just the safety of cryo he was missing, it was the ‘supplements’. He’d always gotten them like clockwork so he’d never understood how much he’d come to rely on them. Or, as the bearded guy and the one with glasses — Banner — said, his body had learned to function like it needed them. Same difference. All Bucky knew was how fucked up he was without them. Everything stopped working — his systems broke down. His temperature gauge was off, his muscles were constantly cramping, his balance left him. He couldn’t eat even though everyone wanted him to. He’d lost the knack, and his stomach kicked everything back up. He couldn’t sleep. Or he couldn’t wake up. Or he kept time traveling. 

_Steve._

That was his only constant — something Bucky remembered from before, something familiar nearby. His body was the new one, the unfamiliar one, but that was okay. It was his voice that mattered. And his touch.

“I’m here, Buck.” 

_In his apartment after Steve’s mom’s funeral, curled up on the couch and listening to the radio. Steve had stopped crying and Bucky was just holding him. Close, safe. Bucky hoped for one traitorous second that Steve would never let go, and he risked kissing Steve’s hair softly — so softly — so he’d never know. Or he’d never bring it up. It felt so good to be so close, and when the radio show was over, Steve yawned and stretched and Bucky took the hint. He got up to put coffee on._

“Where?”

“Here.” Steve’s voice came just as a weight pressed down on Bucky’s shoulder, so he stuck his right hand out of the covers. A moment later, the warm strength of a too-large hand grasped his own and held tight. “Right here.”

Bucky needed him closer, so close he couldn’t tell which limbs were his own. He needed connection and care and something to focus on to stop the pain. But he couldn’t ask for it. They never spoke like that. “I can’t get warm.” 

“Here, lemme...” Steve leaned over and covered Bucky with his body, hugging him close. Still too far away.

Bucky tugged at the blankets between them. “Get in.” Steve’s hesitation cut deep, just under his ribs, making it even harder to breathe. “Steve...” He wouldn’t plead. He _wouldn’t._

He didn’t have to. Steve sighed and slid under the covers, fully clothed. Bucky gave him his back, and Steve curled around him, pulling him close. Safe. Warm. It was disorienting to have such a big outer spoon, but it helped stop the shivering. And if Bucky’s lips happened to brush Steve’s hand, well, it wasn’t worth mentioning. 

~~~

The ache in Steve’s chest wouldn’t go away. Bucky wasn’t getting better. Not fast enough, at least. Bruce said it would take a few more days to get everything out of his system and Nat reminded him that Bucky’s mind was in pieces and would take a lot longer. And it hurt. Watching him, understanding what had happened to him all those years — time that Steve didn’t have, that had passed him by. The fact that Bucky remembered him at all was a miracle, they said. Steve knew that if he hadn’t, he himself would be dead right now. If not at Bucky’s hands, then... yeah. Not headed there. Not anymore. He had to be strong for Bucky now. Had to take care of him, just like Bucky used to do when he was sick before the war. 

But there were things he couldn’t do — ways they couldn’t be — not yet. Not until he was sure _his_ Bucky was back and functional. Himself. Able to show he wanted to.

Steve hated himself for it, but _that_ ache was almost as strong. Holding Bucky was like torture — so close to what he’d once had, but still so far from what he wanted. And he knew it wasn’t good for him to go through that every night — and sometimes during the day — but he couldn’t stop. Bucky needed him — wanted him there. Clutched him so tight it kinda hurt. But it was a good hurt, one that reminded him that he was strong enough to take this. That Bucky could rely on him to be there, for whatever he needed. 

And then it was the middle of the night and he felt it. Bucky was spooned up against his back, clinging like an octopus, whimpering in his sleep, and Steve woke from a dream about dance halls and dark corners to feel Bucky’s hands and lips on his chest and nape. Before rational thought broke in, he pushed his ass back against Bucky’s hips and could feel the hardness through his sweatpants. A soft moan escaped him just as Bucky’s now-familiar whimper was audible. 

“Steve...”

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve inched away from Bucky’s crotch and tried to clear his brain of the fog of arousal. He rested his hands on Bucky’s arms which were around his torso, ready to help how he could. 

“Steve, it hurts... I need...” Bucky’s voice was tight, in pain, and it tore at Steve, just as it had every hour for the past seventy-two and counting. 

“What, hon?” Steve was ready to move heaven and earth if given the word, and he turned around in Bucky’s arms to see what was wrong. Not that it was ever a visible problem. 

“I need your help... Please...” Bucky’s eyes were closed, his brow was furrowed and his lips were parted and wet. He was beautiful, even with his hair strewn across his face, and Steve held his breath as he watched, fearful. In all of these infinite hours of withdrawal, Bucky had never once pleaded for anything. What could he possibly need, now the effects of the HYDRA drugs were finally wearing off?

Bucky’s metal hand took hold of Steve’s wrist, then pulled it toward him, and it took Steve a stupidly long time to realize where he was aiming. He tried to pull away and Bucky whimpered again. 

“I’m so hot, Stevie. I need...” 

Steve knew exactly what Bucky needed. It was something they’d given each other once in a while, like a favor. Always couched in language that referenced dames, though at some point Steve had stopped lying to himself about what he really wanted. Or, whom. 

But Bucky had never let go of the fiction, at least he’d never put it to death in words, which had always caught in Steve’s throat when he’d tried to speak up. Even that night on Bucky’s couch after his mom’s funeral. After the crying and the coffee and the radio lulled them into a safe space, and they’d kissed for the first time. There had only been one other time, and Steve didn’t like to think of it. But both times Bucky had acted like nothing had happened, and again, Steve hadn’t said anything. 

But this was oddly comforting in its familiarity. Steve tried not to hate himself for letting it happen, but he couldn’t say no — couldn’t pass up the opportunity for such connection. He never thought he’d have Bucky back, let alone as close as this, and it satisfied the ache inside him in a way he tried not to think about.

Bucky’s whimper turned to a groan as Steve’s fingers slid under his waistband and brushed his hard cock. He leaned in and breathed against Steve’s neck, hot and needy, his breath catching and coming out a moan more often than not. Listening to it got Steve harder than he’d been since defrosting. Bucky’s hands didn’t move anywhere near Steve’s cock, though, for which he was grateful. He wouldn’t have been able to rationalize this as helping Bucky get better if they both got off. 

When Bucky did come, it was with a pained cry that tore through him, leaving his voice and breath ragged. “Oh, Steve. Steve...” He curled up in Steve’s arms and hid his face against Steve’s chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand...” 

“Shhh... It’s okay, Buck. Whatever you need.” Steve kissed his hair lightly and rubbed his back, trying not to fall into a timewarp to a past that he could never get back. Bucky was different now. He would always have the Winter Soldier in him. There was no happily ever after here, like Steve used to fantasize about when they were kids. 

“I need you. Don’t go. I won’t... _that_ again. I promise.” Bucky’s voice was a hair's breadth from whining and Steve frowned at how he sounded as though he was afraid he’d be punished. 

“It’s fine. If you need _that,_ it’s okay.” This was the most they’d talked about it in forever and Steve could feel his cheeks burning. 

“I didn’t used to. I’m sor—”

“Don’t be.” 

The sigh that escaped Bucky’s lips helped Steve breathe again. And surprisingly or not, Bucky was able to fall back asleep just a short while later. It took Steve a lot longer.


	2. Coffee

Nothing made Bucky more ashamed than the nights he couldn’t control his urges and he had to ask Steve for help. Well, the need wasn’t something he could fix, so that wasn’t his fault, but he didn’t _have_ to ask Steve. He just couldn’t keep himself from wanting _that_ so bad it hurt. His memories were scattered like playing cards over a table, but each image was bright and vivid as sunlight through stained glass. And _Steve._ Steve was the center of every one. 

After a couple times he tried not to ask, tried to be quiet and take care of it himself, but inevitably it was when Steve had curled up with him to keep him warm, or just comfortable, now that his systems were starting up again. Sometimes Steve just came to his room and climbed right in without asking what Bucky needed, and those were the best moments — the ones that felt the most like Bucky was finding himself again. But then Bucky would get so hot he couldn’t stand it, and Steve would wake up and turn around and take Bucky in hand without either of them saying a word. And Bucky would spill out his thanks when he was done, having learned early that apologies weren’t okay — they just made Steve feel bad. 

So they didn’t talk about it. And though he’d been trained that status reports were important, he was sure Steve didn’t want to hear them.

Dr. Banner had said this would happen — that one of the supplements had been a suppressant of desire — and that if it disturbed him when it returned Bucky should talk to him. He didn’t. He didn’t want to lose what little comfort and connection he could get from Steve — however precarious and hushed it was. He knew it was bad to want it so much, but he couldn’t lose the one thing that made him feel at home. 

_They should have gone to Bucky’s room — he knew they’d just been lucky the first time — but the radio was playing their favorite song, and Steve’s eyes had been so pretty when he looked up at Bucky and sang along. Steve’s lips were soft and lush and tasted of coffee — always coffee. It had become a bit of a ritual before they did anything together they weren't supposed to. And Bucky had lost himself in the feel of Steve's mouth, so much so they didn't hear Bucky's dad coming home until it was almost too late._

And of course he got hard the next time Steve crawled into bed with him, and Steve didn’t even wait for it to get to the point where Bucky would whimper. Steve just reached for him and started to stroke his cock — gentle, almost teasing — until Bucky’s breath broke into pieces. And because for once he wasn’t so desperate he couldn’t think, Bucky finally pulled himself together to reach out to Steve, his fingertips touching the elastic waistband before Steve gasped and jumped. 

“Oh, God. Buck. I...”

“Sorry. Sorry. I just thought...” 

“You don’t have to. I’m fine...”

“Please?”

Steve’s hand stopped moving and his body slumped forward until his forehead was against Bucky’s chest. “You want to do it?”

“Yeah.” Bucky could barely breathe, admitting that. His memories never had them both getting touched at the same time. 

“Will it help?” Steve’s voice betrayed nothing as to how he felt about it, and it made Bucky panic, fear sharp in his mouth. He had no idea what Steve meant, but he wanted to make Steve feel good. He’d always enjoyed watching Steve fall apart at his touch. And the memory had him wanting to feel human again — to touch in pleasure instead of pain. To make a feedback loop between his own arousal and Steve’s, and share the pleasure between them. 

He tried to breathe enough to whisper, “Yeah?”

“All right.” Steve pulled his head back far enough to make eye contact, but only for a heartbeat. His eyes flicked down between them and he waved his hand vaguely. “Should I keep...?”

“If you want — If you can." They didn't talk about their wants like this, so Bucky amended his statement. Steve seemed to hear the change differently, though.

“You think I can’t? Just watch me, punk.” The challenge in Steve’s voice — the cockiness, too — got Bucky hot all over again.

He grinned and let Steve believe what he needed to, if it meant getting what he wanted. And it did, though in the process he learned just how much of a challenge it was to bring someone else off at the same time that you were being taken apart by them. 

~~~

It had kinda become a game. Steve knew it was stupid and possibly dangerous to play with Bucky like this — the man was still recovering from abusive treatment and brainwashing, not to mention chemical dependency on multiple drugs. But then again, Steve was invested. He wasn’t just messing around with Bucky to pass the time — he needed the connection, too. It helped him as he dealt with having Bucky back, but not completely. And he truly believed the connection between them was helping Bucky find himself. 

Bruce said he may never be fully back to his old self. And Steve understood that. Hell, he wasn’t the same as he’d been when they were kids, inside or out. But to see and feel Bucky react to Steve’s touch, just as he had when they were horny teenagers, was too addictive to let go of yet. And supposedly the spike in Bucky’s libido would recede as his hormones balanced out again, so it wasn’t like they’d carry on like this forever... 

Steve tried not to think about the inevitable moment when Bucky turned him away — not needing the favor anymore. Especially since they had started making it a mutual favor. That was the thing that Steve tried not to feel ashamed about. _He_ didn’t need this — not like Bucky did. But God, did he want it more than anything. It made him feel safe. Cared for. Things a supersoldier shouldn’t need to feel. 

But it was _Bucky._ Bucky, who had taken care of him when he was sick and ended the fights he’d started. Who had taken him in when he was orphaned and treated him like family. There was no one else in Steve’s life more important. Peggy had gotten close, but Bucky had been first. And this was Steve’s chance to pay Bucky back for all he’d done. Whatever Bucky needed, he’d get. And when what he asked for lined up exactly with what Steve ached for, well, no need to bring it up. 

That’s where the game came in. It helped things feel light-hearted, more like a way to pass the time than to fulfill a deep need. Steve could keep up the illusion of distance, even as he fell further into Bucky’s orbit. By this point, it was practically Pavlovian that when Steve climbed into Bucky’s bed, he’d feel himself getting hard. And Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky was always on the edge of arousal these days, or if he too was feeling some cause and effect. 

This time, Bucky reached for him first. “Need some help, there, Stevie?” 

The old nickname sparked more memories of the two of them in dark corners trading favors — of how big Bucky’s hand used to feel — and it succeeded in only getting him harder. “I dunno, maybe. You up for a race?” He reached for Bucky’s waistband and touched cool metal. His arm was resting across his hips, effectively blocking Steve’s way and hiding Bucky’s arousal. 

Bucky’s fingers were already against his abdomen, sliding down to brush the tip of his cock, and as a moan escaped his lips, Steve panicked. This whole set-up was to help Bucky through his withdrawal and recalibration. It wasn’t supposed to be about Steve at all. The game was to keep Bucky company more than anything — to let him return the favor. It wasn’t supposed to work like this. 

“Let me take care of this for you.” Bucky’s breath was hot on his collarbone, and his fingers felt _so good_ but not enough, and Steve couldn’t help but whimper as he tried so hard not to jerk his hips.

“Fuck. Bucky...” This was a bad idea, but Steve didn’t have the willpower to stop it.

“Yeah, Stevie? What do you need?” Bucky had tilted his head so his lips were almost touching Steve’s ear, and the question breathed against it made him shiver. 

“You — I can’t let —”

“You can. I want to make you feel good.” Steve went still at Bucky’s words, murmured low in his ear. They didn’t talk like that. It was against the unwritten rules of the game. Bucky’s hand paused and he tentatively asked, “Do you not want...?”

“I...” — Steve had to clear his throat to answer — “I do. But let me...” He nudged Bucky’s metal arm to try and get under it. 

“In a minute,” Bucky whispered, and Steve thought he was imagining things, but he was almost sure he felt Bucky’s teeth gently catch and drag against his earlobe.

“Jesus. Okay. Whatever you need, Buck.” Steve tried to relax as Bucky took firm hold of him and stroked slow and hard. He’d clearly been paying attention to what Steve liked. It didn’t take long for him to make Steve moan. 

“I need this. I need you.” Bucky’s voice was muffled against Steve’s neck and he himself was addled from the hard, sharp spikes of pleasure, but he was almost certain he heard Bucky correctly. 

“I’m right here. Fuck,” Steve gasped, as Bucky twisted his hand at the right moment to catch all the nerve endings in the glans. Steve’s breath was ragged, and his concentration was unraveling, but he knew enough to calm any fear Bucky might have. Even if what they were doing was a bad idea, it wasn’t _wrong_ — Steve had learned that — and he wanted Bucky to know it too. “I’m here for you. However you need...”

“Even if I need this?” Bucky’s hand stilled, and he turned his head to brush his lips against Steve’s cheek. 

Steve’s heart stuttered. He backed his head away to look at Bucky’s face. His eyes were downcast, and he started moving his hand again, causing Steve’s breath to leave him in a soft moan. Bucky’s eyes flicked up to Steve’s, then were drawn to Steve’s open mouth. He started to lean forward so slowly Steve wasn’t sure it was happening — not until he was a breath away and Steve couldn’t help but tilt his head the last inch for their lips to touch. 

Bucky moaned and pressed his mouth hard against Steve’s, lips and teeth fiercely claiming it for their own. Steve gasped for breath and found his fingers were tangled in Buckys hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer — as if that were possible. Bucky’s hand was pumping fast and hard and Steve felt dizzy as Bucky’s tongue stroked his own. The feedback loop from Bucky’s mouth to his hand and back soon dragged Steve under, and all he could do was whisper the words, “Yes, Bucky, please,” over and over into Bucky’s mouth as the pleasure built until it broke open and spilled out everywhere. 

He cried out Bucky’s name and pulled him into his arms, hugging so tight he hoped their sternums would fuse together, their hard heartbeats matching to beat as one. 

Steve loosened his hold after a minute and said, “Yes. Fuck. That was perfect. You’re...” He lost his train of thought as he opened his eyes to see Bucky’s gaze riveted to his face.

“You liked that?” Bucky’s eyes were hopeful, but his face was streaked with fear.

“Yeah.” Steve tried to catch his breath, then sighed it out again. “The kissing...”

“I'm sorry.” Bucky’s brow furrowed and he looked away as if embarrassed.

“Why? It was so good. If you wanted it, then...” 

“Yeah? I thought it wasn't allowed.” Bucky buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. “Remember when we almost got caught?”

Steve nodded, his chin brushing against Bucky's hair. “When your dad came home and you pretended we were wrestling. Yeah. I remember. You gave me a fat lip.” He closed his eyes tight to shut out the hurt of that memory.

“I’m sorry. We stopped, after, and I thought you didn't...” Bucky’s metal fingers clutched at Steve’s shirt.

“I did. Always.” Steve kissed Bucky’s hair and murmured so softly he almost hoped Bucky couldn’t hear. “Always wanted you.”

“Oh." The word was so soft it was barely a breath. "No, Steve. Don’t say things just to — I’m getting better; you don’t have to—” Bucky’s voice was husky and cracking as he pulled away. Steve’s heart split and he clutched at Bucky to keep him close.

He had to say it. Had to speak up, for once. “I’m not, Buck. I want this. You.” He touched Bucky’s cheek. “If you stop needing it, that’s fine. I just... It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Bucky sobbed a laugh and pressed his face against Steve’s. “Yeah. For me, too.” He whispered against Steve’s cheek, “I don’t _need_ help anymore — my body’s balancing out. I just... always want you.”

_Well, shit._ Steve gaped at Bucky. The game was over, but miraculously, they weren’t done. And they didn't have to pretend anymore. His face broke into a wicked grin. “Right now?” 

Bucky’s eyes went wide, then they crinkled into an amused smile. “If you want...”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Steve leaned in to kiss Bucky. For a split second he worried he needed more practice, but then he realized he’d be getting quite a lot of it from now on.

They found the good angles and relearned each other’s mouths, making their breathing difficult and the challenge totally worth it. When Bucky moaned as Steve sucked on his tongue, he finally reached for Bucky’s waistband. Then he kissed and nipped and stroked and stroked, and he reveled in Bucky’s gasps and moans and kisses and curses until his movements got desperate and his voice went sharp. 

“Oh, God, Steve. I’m—”

“I know. I’ve got you.” Steve pressed his mouth to Bucky’s neck as he stroked short and quick and tipped Bucky over the edge of arousal into orgasm.

“Fuck! Stevie...” Bucky’s voice was thin and breathless, and his hand on Steve’s arm clutched hard.

Steve growled and he pumped just a few more times as Bucky spilled over his hand. “Yeah, that’s it. God, you're _Perfect._ ”

Bucky slumped against him and took a minute to catch his breath, their closeness a comfort for them both. He huffed as if amused, but his face held a wince as he asked, “Am I?”

“Yes, love.” Steve couldn’t think of anything more perfect than Bucky, especially when he was this close with Steve. He never wanted to lose this.

Bucky nestled close in Steve’s arms and kissed his neck gently. “With you, I am.”

_Thank God._ Steve couldn't believe his luck. And he couldn’t agree more. “Yeah, me too.” He kissed Bucky’s hair and moved to sit up. Bucky whined in protest, so he offered, “Coffee?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s satisfied grin was the most beautiful thing Steve had seen since waking from the ice. “And more kissing after. Right?”

“Whatever you want, Buck.” Steve meant it. He always had. Always would.

Bucky sat up and kissed him — just a casual, impulsive press of his lips to Steve's. It was breathtaking. “You. Just you, Steve.”

**Author's Note:**

> There was an amazing tumblr post with the meta around what HYDRA did to Bucky to make him into the Winter Soldier, but now I can't find it. (if anyone can locate a link, lemme know).  
> That was the inspiration for this.


End file.
